


A Case of You

by gadgetsandgizmos



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Cuteness overload, Developing Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Holidays, maybe some smut, slow-burn, true freaking love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-09-27 05:21:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9974717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gadgetsandgizmos/pseuds/gadgetsandgizmos
Summary: Jillian Holtzmann and Erin Gilbert were always meant to fall in love. For them, the path to true love was paved in a series of snapshots, of tiny moments suspended in the fabric of space and time itself. It wasn't the magical, butterflies-in-the-stomach courtship people always said true love would be; for them, it was as easy as their life's work. It was science, plain and simple, the gravitational pull of an unstoppable force meeting an immobile object.





	1. Love is Touching Souls

**Author's Note:**

> This is the Post-Ghostbusters love story I always wanted to write for these two. I've been a long-time lurker on this board, and specifically for this fandom and pairing, so I finally decided to join your ranks. I'm thinking of setting this story up like a series of stand-alone snaps, each depicting various stages of their growing relationship. Fluff, smut, maybe some angst for flavor, we'll see. I'm open to ideas, and I'm kind of a sucker for Holiday-centric pieces, so a lot of them will probably have that element.

New York City greeted the dawn of Christmas Day, 2016, by ushering in thick flakes of powder that fell from the sky in waves, blanketing the city streets, a promise for the ‘White Christmas’ so many dreamt of experiencing during the holidays. All four Ghostbusters had gathered in the firehouse’s expansive living quarters, a part of the communal space that was just theirs, away from their experiments and equipment, where they could be a family. Abby and Patty had selected the tree, a sturdy Douglas Fir that had cost a pretty penny, but simulated every greeting-card holiday tradition the women could imagine in their fondest – and sometimes wildest – dreams. Erin had insisted in taking on the decorations of the space, using her meticulous eye for detail and a few decorating quirks to adorn the tree and surrounding area – a mantle, the dining room table, even the office space – with holiday cheer that was enough to make Hallmark jealous. Holtzmann had developed a few ‘odds and ends’ that allowed them to utilize low energy to keep the Yuletide burning bright, day and night, so they’d never go without that rush of cheer even when busts got too difficult, when tensions ran high, when they made mistakes or experienced failures.

Also, Holtz had taken it upon herself to dole out ‘Secret Santa’ assignments. They all bought presents for each other, but the tradition of Santa Claus was of some great importance to the quirky engineer, who they knew likely just wanted to nestle herself among a mass of presents under the mighty Fir on Christmas Eve. Erin Gilbert was the first to wake. Actually, she hadn’t quite gone to sleep; the evening before had been her happiest Christmas in, well, ever. She’d told her friends that it was the best in recent memory, and they hadn’t questioned the sentiment, though she’d seen a knowing look in Abby’s eyes as they misted, and that told her that her oldest and best friend knew the hidden truth behind her words. Erin wasn’t as good at dishing out emotional tirades; she wasn’t free with her endearments and pet names like Patty. She wasn’t the ‘den mother’ who always offered a sturdy shoulder to cry on, like Abby did. Even Holtzmann, with all her unique views on what affection could and should be had her beat; the engineer was apt to deliver the occasional speech or toast that rendered them all speechless with the earnest quality of her words; when she opened up, there was seldom a dry eye in the house. At least, until she cracked some joke at the end that brought them full-circle, and left them in stitches. 

Patty and Abby had retired to bed in the dormitory, where they all had bunks and could sleep in relative privacy, though the women were all so close that it seldom mattered. There were two larger, private sleeping quarters – Holtzmann had claimed one, mostly because she rarely left the firehouse – but Patty, Abby, and Erin all had their own apartments. Tonight, however, they’d opted to stay together, as a unit. After Abby and Patty had gone to bed, determined to get some sleep so they could work on cooking a proper Christmas feast the next day, Holtzmann and Erin had stayed up, drinking mulled cider on the couch, chatting quietly as they were illuminated by nothing more than Christmas lights and moonlight. In recent months, Erin had detected a change in her friendship with Holtz. Where there had been daring flirtation before, Holtz had become a bit more… shy around her, and for a while, Erin wondered if she hadn’t done something to earn the tentative, almost nervous responses she occasionally got from the precocious blonde. Holtzmann had reassured her that there had been no such wrongdoing, that she was just getting used to changing dynamics that hadn’t been at all familiar to her at any point in her thirty-three years of existence. She’d had foster families, growing up, and several. Sometimes, she’d offer up details about her childhood when conversation struck randomly, but the other Ghostbusters knew not to ask directly, or the engineer would clam up and retreat. After the foster homes, she’d met Dr. Gorin, who had become both a mentor and – they thought – something akin to a mother figure. Later, her work led her to the Kenneth P. Higgins Institute and to Abby, and the rest was history as their paths intersected in a way the Large Hadron Collider would likely envy if it was capable of anthropomorphized thought. 

Eventually, their mugs were empty, but their hearts were full. Erin had urged Holtzmann to retire to her bedroom, but the blonde had merely smiled at her in that toothy, dimpled way that was so utterly Holtzmann in its purity – a way that was brighter, somehow, when alight with the moon – and said she didn’t want to ‘lose the Christmas spirit.’ When she’d fallen asleep on the couch, Erin had been tempted to get up and give her the space; it wasn’t a huge couch, but the blonde was petite, and seemed smaller when she slept. That, and the second the thought of motion had crossed the redhead’s mind, the engineer’s body had seemed to subconsciously shift closer, almost like a heat-seeking missile, and curled up in her lap. Erin’s breath caught in her throat when Holtzmann’s hands found the thick strands of her ugliest Christmas sweater – complete with tiny bow ties, which had earned her many jokes and comments from Holtz earlier in the day – and nuzzled into her. Erin must have spent the better part of an hour trying to do her best impression of a statue; she knew the engineer had to have been exhausted, given the fact that she’d never adopted much of a ‘normal’ sleep schedule. The last thing she wanted was to move and risk waking the blonde who seemed so comfortable and at peace being close to her. 

No, she’d realized within the next hour, the last thing she wanted was to give Holtzmann a reason to move away from her and think she had somehow burdened Erin by falling asleep, keeping her captive, or numerous other thoughts the brilliant blonde’s mind would likely leap to in a series of foregone conclusions that would spring through her like a Rube Goldberg machine when and if she woke. The quiet made Erin process her feelings, as she typically did when the world was soft and still around her; the rest of the time, she could put them on the back-burner and spend the processing power of her brain on things that mattered, or so she liked to tell herself, things like equations that would assist with Holtz’s next great invention or a project or something related to their work. To science, which was the real love she, Holtz, and Abby all shared: Patty was slow to jump onboard, but she was starting to take a mild interest, at least enough to listen to many long-winded ramblings from her three scientists, at least so long as she was caffeinated. The physicist listened to the steady thrum of her heart as it synced with Holtz’s. It never seemed so strong and calm simultaneously as it did when the other woman was near. Sometimes, she knew it was anything but calm when introduced to the engineer’s presence; sometimes, it hammered so obnoxiously hard that she was certain a coronary was in her future or the amplification would be heard not just by the people in her immediate proximity, but the world at large. She’d be able to single-handedly prove the existence of butterflies in one’s stomach when Holtz elated over something she’d done or called her some quirky endearment that was reserved just for her. They all had their nicknames from the blonde, of course, but they were different than, say, Patty’s classic ‘babys’ and ‘sugars.’ They were unique like the snowflakes that currently fell from the sky, each carefully composed and crafted by a mind that was so flawlessly genius, so unmistakably Holtzmann that Erin couldn’t possibly see them as anything but treasured gifts. Also, Holtzmann spoke like, a dozen languages, so that didn’t detract from her ability to make the redhead blush. 

Right around three in the morning, soon after the snow began to fall and press against every visible window within Erin’s line of sight, the physicist’s hands developed a mind of their own and gently, tenderly began to stroke the wayward blonde curls that were spilling over Holtzmann’s face while she slept. Her hair was still in that ridiculous up-do that she knew took quite a bit of effort even if it was meant to look effortless, like she’d made no attempt to style it at all, but it was starting to dismantle itself as she’d run the paces of that evening at a thousand miles an hour. A few long – and Erin hadn’t been aware that Holtzmann’s hair was that long – curls had worked their way out of the messy bun and cascaded down the engineer’s back. Erin’s fingers twirled those, then tucked them aside and away. Her hands left the woman’s head to rub the blonde’s back instead, and she felt Holtzmann’s fingertips twitch once, then twice before she tightened her hold on Erin’s sweater, still soundly asleep. If she was just a little braver, Erin knew she might take a risk and attempt settling on the couch a bit more comfortably; it wouldn’t have been hard to maneuver them into a position where they could fall asleep in each other’s arms – or at least in a position that would cater to her being able to hold the engineer like she desperately wanted to do – without too much disturbance to their tender little bubble, the one where Holtz was blissfully unaware of the redhead’s quiet struggle, her internal war with herself about what she wanted vs. what was proper for that particular snapshot of time. 

By five o’ clock, the Sandman won out against Erin Gilbert’s incredibly anxious mind and self-preservation in the face of potential embarrassment. At seven o’clock, Abby walked into the communal space, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from her eyes, then took in the scene before her with a slowly upturned smile and an exhaled sigh of relief when her vision became clear. Erin’s body had shifted to where she was reclined sideways against the arm of the couch, legs tucked up in a gap between Holtzmann and the back cushion. Holtzmann was occupying the space in front of her, almost like they were spooning, but she was facing Erin’s slumbering form instead, her head cradled under the redhead’s chin, hands clenched tightly into the fabric of the physicist’s sweater – the early Christmas present Abby had given her as a joke, because there were ghosts in Santa hats and it was all too perfect – like she never wanted to let go. 

Like she couldn’t let go. 

Erin’s arms were equally fixed around the blonde’s body; one was underneath the redhead for comfort, but the other – the one Abby fixated on – was protectively slung around the engineer’s waist with one hand splayed out on the small of her back. 

“Do you think we should wake them up?”

Patty’s voice was hushed – probably the quietest Abby had ever heard the native New Yorker – and Abby shook her head. 

“Nah, they’re grown-ups. We’ll let them figure it out when they finally come to,” she replied.

“You know Holtzy made damn sure Erin was her pick for ‘Secret Santa,’ right?”

Abby turned back to face Patty, brow furrowed inquisitively, but the expression settled moments later and she tried to hold back a laugh. 

“Why am I not surprised that Holtzmann wanted to take charge of ‘Secret Santa’ for that exact reason?”

“Sure, she rigged it, but it was for a good reason,” Patty said. They were all friends, but she and the blonde had become quite the odd couple developing a friendship in a short time that was an equivalent rival to the one Abby and Erin had known for years. “Baby girl has been racking those beautiful brains on how to ask Erin out for months.”

This time, Abby did laugh. She took another look at her best friend in the universe and shrugged her shoulders. 

“Something tells me Erin’s gonna say yes. And it’s about damn time.”

A low groan sounded from the couch and a blonde head started to move. 

“Shit, we gotta go. Last thing they need is knowing that we know,” Patty said, grabbing Abby by the crook of her elbow and tugging the short brunette toward the kitchen, even though Abby was trying to glue her feet to the floor for just a few seconds longer. “Give them some goddamn privacy.”

“All right, all right,” Abby responded, her words a sharp whisper that managed to hold reluctance for a second before she broke out in a dimpled smile of her own. “Merry Christmas, you crazy kids.”

When Holtzmann finally woke up, she was greeted by the twinkle of Christmas lights and condensation on the windows as morning rays poked through. As she squinted, she could see the idyllic brightness of New York City, covered in dense snow. As her body caught up to her brain and other basic faculties, she became aware of an arm over her waist, a hand on her back, the clean, floral scent of Erin Gil---

What in the _name_ of…?

Holtzmann unfurled her hands, feeling her nimble fingers tremble a bit as her joints responded to having mobility again. Erin was snoring softly behind her, and it was the most wonderful thing the engineer had ever seen in her life. Though she had never been a Grinch, her heart swelled at least three sizes. Then, suddenly realizing that she hadn’t been quite as crazy as she thought when she had planned a rather elaborate way to ask the physicist out on a proper date that would hopefully determine if she had a snowball’s chance in Hell with the woman she’d been crushing on for nearly a year, Jillian’s confidence soared. She placed an infinitesimally delicate kiss against the redhead’s jawline while she slumbered, then whispered a secret into the physicist’s shoulder as quietly as she could manage.

“You don’t know it yet, Gilbert, but I just got everything I ever wanted for Christmas.”


	2. Auld Lang Syne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, thank you ALL for your feedback, kudos, or even just for reading. This chapter is much longer than the first. I was, experimentally, dipping my toe in the water to see if y'all liked what I could produce, and I'm humbled by the positive response.

         The idea of going back to Times Square after their epic battle – the one that cemented all their fates as family, as Ghostbusters – wasn’t necessarily at the top of Erin’s ‘To Do’ list, but it was New Year’s Eve.

         It was New Year’s Eve and she, with her tiny bow ties and stubborn rigidity, the kind of woman that never got asked out on New Year’s Eve, never had someone to kiss when the ball dropped and the clock struck midnight unless she was in an honest-to-goodness relationship, had a date.

         She had a date with Jillian Holtzmann, on New Year’s Eve, in Times Square.

         They were going to watch the ball drop, together, packed in like sardines with other people when the band struck up Auld Lang Syne and everyone clutched to each other in a glorious display of human togetherness.

         “It’s kind of like taking you back to the start. That’s why I thought it’d be a good spot for our first date,” the engineer had explained when Erin had questioned her motivations, punctuating the sentiment with that cheeky smile that might as well have been the blonde’s trademark. That and those goddamn dimples and that _wink_ would be the end of her.

         Technically, Erin had been ‘asked out’ by the engineer on Christmas Day, when they’d all gathered around the Christmas Tree with its quirky decorations, each one holding pieces of them, of who each woman was at her core. She had been full of the holiday spirit, full from the three-course breakfast Abby and Patty had whipped up in the kitchen, because apparently the Tolans liked to feed armies whenever they went into the kitchen to prepare holiday feasts. Abby had been a marvelous sous-chef, and Erin had eventually been roped into keeping Holtzmann company so she’d stop trying to lick various spoons and other cooking implements whenever something sweet was added to the mix. The engineer had a sweet tooth that just wouldn’t quit, and it turned out that Patty was quite the Commandant in the kitchen, needing everything to be in place just like the scientists with their various inventions and experiments.

         It was a different sort of paradise, being punch-drunk on the kind of happiness that Erin thought she’d only ever experience against when she got a miniscule taste of her happiest childhood memories. They hadn’t all be happy – most of them weren’t, past a certain point – but then she’d found Abby, lost Abby, and then found her again. It was ironic, she thought sometimes, how the universe liked to challenge her belief in scientific fact by making her believe in such intangible principles as destiny and fate. Holtzmann had taken point in handing out all the presents, and she had been so happy about it that nobody had tried to interrupt her order, her process in determining who would open what and when. When the engineer had handed a lumpy box to Erin, she’d tossed a wink saying that it was from ‘Secret Santa,’ which told the physicist that it was totally from Holtzmann, but she went along with the ruse.

         Magic 8-Balls had no scientific foundation whatsoever, they were basically like Ouija boards and other loosely manifested tools that made people feel connected to some greater portion of a spiritual or even psychic universe. It was silly, child-like, even, but when she’d opened that lumpy box to reveal an 8-Ball that was hand-crafted, not even fully round, but unmistakably Holtz’s own creation with gears and springs and wires all over, she couldn’t help the smile that split her face. Instead of consulting the device about her future, the ball had whirred and whizzed to life in Erin’s hands and eventually led her through a series of questions that led to a simple inquiry that she answered aloud only seconds after reading it across the tiny, glass screen with a resounding ‘yes.’

         _Wanna go steady?_

Of course, in the normal world, it wasn’t a zero-to-sixty sort of 1950s-esque courtship where you went on one date and immediately fell in love, but the phrasing of the question had been so charming – not to mention, exactly what Erin had wanted the engineer to ask her for some time – that she said ‘yes’ knowing that Holtz would understand her need to take things slow, even if her heart and body liked to throw wrenches in that particular plan by jumping her ten paces ahead all the time. Her brain was logical. She was a scientist. Logical people went on multiple dates before they agreed to spend any time involved with someone, romantically, and crossed that precarious bridge of commitment and partnership.

         _Even though you know she’s the one…_

         Her heart would say such dangerous things, whisper these sentiments in heady, illicit purrs to the pleasure centers of her brain and synapses would fire _everywhere_ until her body and her hormones tried to do damage control and failed. Failure of that variety usually led to long, cold showers or nights spent with her hand down her pajama pants until her arm cramped and her fingers trembled and she was finally able to drift into unconscious bliss without thinking about the blonde she wanted so desperately, but didn’t know how to win over.

         Holtzmann was a logic puzzle of epic proportions, one that was as illogical and random as it was perfectly calculated points on a data map. Erin had wondered whether she’d gotten enough information to proceed; she’d liked to think, as a scientist, her observational skills were more enhanced, she was more inclined to dig deep and figure out idiosyncrasies, but what was Jillian Holtzmann if not a walking bundle of idiosyncrasies, anyway? She knew her favorite color – colors, actually – what foods she liked to eat, the sort of movies that made her laugh, the types that made her cry. She knew Holtz was happier on rainy days, for some inexplicable reason because she seemed like she’d be the type of person to love the sunshine on her skin. All her favorite music earned spots on Erin’s iPod, because she felt it was important to dedicate at least some of her free time to appreciating something that held value to the engineer even if it wasn’t her taste.

         Erin had gathered all this data, all this _science_ but she still lacked an ability to wrap her mind around a logical hypothesis that could carve out a happy, lasting future for them. Fear, mostly, had been her primary set-back. Erin feared rejection. She feared it academically, socially; she had been the type who, for years, had worked to craft a Rolodex of excuses to deploy whenever a situation started to turn sour, suggesting she might get left behind or overlooked in such a way that would cause her to descend into the doldrums. So she’d taken a backseat to her own happiness and, by some stroke of dumb luck – which was another intangible she hadn’t always been able to process before Holtzmann ruined her life in the best of ways – Jillian did the leg work for her. For them.

         And she did it beautifully.

         Holtzmann’s plans for their ‘epic first date’ on New Year’s Eve included an appearance at the Mayor’s Ball, first and foremost, before they would retire to the festivities at Times Square, among the thousands and thousands of bodies. There, they would be just like any other couple, and the thought of being half of a couple with _Holtzmann_ made Erin’s insides burn and curl like paper set to flame. According to Patty, Holtz was nervous about the date, which seemed ludicrous to Erin because the engineer had so much confidence, so much swagger, so much… extra that it made her envious because she couldn’t recall a time in her life when she’d been so illuminated with a thousand different varieties of joy by just existing and being a part of the world. And she’d been covered, from head to toe, with heavily ionized, glowing ectoplasm on several of their busts. She was a target for it, really. Nobody else ever got it as bad as Erin did.

 

* * *

 

         Abby had insisted that Erin buy a new dress for the occasion.

         Erin wasn’t opposed to dressing up – quite the opposite, she sometimes felt her ability to clean up nicely was a feature that was a proud checkmark in her ‘pro’ column – but the idea of dressing up for Holtzmann had her in knots in a way that she’d never experienced with men she’d dated before. The physicist had come to terms with her crush on the engineer, but it had been a long, arduous process. Finally, she had decided that maybe it didn’t matter if it was a bisexual thing or a Holtzmann thing or what have you, but it was _something_ and it was something she’d never felt before. Perhaps it was the thought of another woman looking at her, scrutinizing her that made her anxious, though she knew Jillian wouldn’t dare ‘scrutinize.’

         Ogle, maybe.

         Probably ogle.

         Erin’s mouth was suddenly dry as her hands skimmed the racks of dresses. For the moment, Abby was content to browse on the other side of the boutique, likely to give her best friend time with her thoughts, which were obviously warring given the deep furrow that struck her brow and caused her eyebrows to sink nearly toward the bridge of her nose.

         “Erin?”

         Abby’s voice cut through her inner monologue, and the redhead looked up, her eyes glassy as if she’d woken up from slumber, though really she’d just been in that deep of a daze, going through the motions of a dedicated shopper even though she’d barely even looked at the dresses. Thankfully, Abby had been tending to the task at hand, and quite well.

         “Yeah?”

         Abby held up a dress for her friend’s approval, and Erin’s eyes instantly lit up.

         The dress was simple, a sleek figure that had a hemline just to her knees so it was still appropriate for a high-end function while being stylish and not resembling some Prom dress or ballroom gown. The bodice looked like it would be tight enough to accentuate her slim figure and subtle curves. The fabric was a deep sapphire blue that featured a plunging neckline that went deep, nearly halfway down the center of the shimmery, lightweight material. Erin gasped. It was certainly bolder than anything she usually wore, but tonight was about being bold, about putting your best self forward into the New Year.

         She knew without a shadow of a doubt that her best self would be the one clinging to Holtzmann like the hot, brilliant arm candy the blonde deserved.

         It was perfect.

         “Let’s find a fitting room.”

 

* * *

 

 

         “Holtzy, baby, you cannot wear an electric blue tuxedo to the Mayor’s Ball,” Patty’s voice drawled as she tried to make sure Holtzmann heard her through the – now closed – dressing room door. The door whipped open and a blonde head poked out, her torso obscured from the historian’s vision, and probably for good reason. The engineer had picked up an armful of fashion atrocities, and she was excited – no, _elated_ – to model them all.

         “But doesn’t it bring out my eyes, Pattycakes?”

         “Girl, you know I’m not about to let you leave this store with that.”

         “I think it’s great,” Holtz muttered. “What if I promise – like, pinky promise – that I’ll only wear it on unimportant holidays or small functions or just around the firehouse?”

         “That’s a lot of ‘or’s’ and I’m gonna still say no.”

         Patty’s mouth was fixed into a straight line, one that even Holtzmann couldn’t argue with, so with another prolonged exhale and a series of unintelligible grumbles, she retreated behind the door and slid the lock closed. Patty heard the shuffle of fabric later, then brought her fist up to rap on the frame, just once, which was more than enough.

         “You’d better be trying on one of them normal-ass tuxedos I picked out for you.”

         “But Patty, I can stop traffic in the green one. And it’s got _pinstripes_!” Holtz called back, her voice raising just a touch in pitch, giving away her excitement. “It’s very Zoot Suit Riot, and isn’t that what we want, anyway? For Erin not to take her beautiful blue eyeballs off of me all night? That’s my plan.”

         Patty did a deep, cleansing breath. It was supposed to calm her, and Holtzmann, as much as she loved the engineer, could put anyone through their paces, especially when they didn’t have an abundance of patience to begin with; Patty was just trying to do a good thing, a nice thing for one of her beloved friends, and while she found this sort of behavior oddly endearing, she knew how much was at stake for this night, even if Holtz wasn’t quite coming to terms with it just yet. Erin was skittish. Abby had told her, and she was quite observant in her own right, so she knew that the particle physicist was comfortable enough with her crush on the blonde to make a few exceptions and take risks where she usually wouldn’t dare, but she still would take a bit of coaxing to be _out_ and comfortable in public. Holtzmann’s loud personality was one of the most beautiful facets of who she was, but adding loud clothing on top of that when she could be sharp and smart and sexy would just be too much noise.

         “We can find a compromise. Pinstripes can be good… on neutral colors, Holtzmann, and goddamn it, you’re not trying to literally stop traffic!”

         This time, her head appeared for a second – she was jumping – above the door and a lopsided grin was on her face the entire time.

         “But I’ll look so dapper!”

         “You’ll look dapper as fuck in any number of the suits _I picked for you_ , now try those on and get that cute ass out here so I can get a look at you!”

         “… okay.”

         The sound was resigned, but at least it wasn’t heartbroken. Even though Patty had to sometimes take a firmer hand to keep the blonde in check, she never actually wanted to insult or emotionally harm her friend. She loved Holtzmann. They all did, quirks and all – the quirks and neuroses were part of what made them love her most – but she also wanted Erin to love her, and possibly even fall in love with her. Patty couldn’t deny the hopeless romantic side of herself that thought two of her best friends in the world falling in love would not only be one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen, but the most sensible. They’d been dancing around each other for months, and it was exhausting for her and Abby to watch sometimes without either of them raising their hands and shrieking for the two women to ‘just kiss already!’ It was their guilty pleasure, their secret ‘ship,’ a cause for the occasional friendly wager between them, and now it was finally starting to come to fruition. It was about damn time.

         Holtzmann emerged from the dressing room in all the outfits Patty had chosen, but in this instance, the third one seemed to be the charm, in a manner of speaking. The solid black suit was simple, but it fit the engineer perfectly, almost as if it had been tailored specifically for the blonde’s petite figure. It was square around the shoulders, but not too square – Holtzmann had some dainty shoulders for how strong she was, lugging around their packs and equipment as she did – and it fit snugly around her waist, drawing in with a slight taper that showed off a hint of curves that was usually hidden by baggy overalls, fisherman’s pants, joggers, and even a pair of harem pants that she’d taken a liking to within the past few months. Underneath the blazer, she had opted for a crisp white button down, and Patty moved forward to unbutton the top three, just enough to show a hint of cleavage.

         “It’ll show off my pendant!”

         “That’s not why we’re doing this, baby,” Patty insisted.

         On top of the shirt, Holtz had gone with an ash-gray vest, giving the illusion of a proper three-piece suit that was a bit more styled and feminine.

         “What are you thinking for accessories?”

         Patty asked because she had ideas, of course, but she wanted Holtzy to contribute as well. It was her date, after all.

         “I have a super nifty antique pocket watch. Think it’d fit?”

         Patty grinned.

         “I think it’d look real sharp, Holtzy.”

         The engineer beamed in response. Her feline eyes, opalescent in color as they shimmered and shifted through various stages of blue widened, and her head tilted to the side, almost imperceptibly. She was in thought, only for a spark of a moment, because her brain really did work that quickly.

         “And a top hat!”

         “…No.”

         “A monocle?”

         “Hell naw.”

 

* * *

 

 

         Jillian had been to Erin’s apartment dozens of times.

         Dozens.

         But as she bounded up the stairwell with a mixed bouquet of flowers – roses, mostly, but she’d gone with a few peculiar ones to add variety – she couldn’t help but realize that this was so different than all the other times before.

         Because she was picking Erin up.

         For their date.

         Her saddle shoes clicked against the steps, and she was slightly out of breath when she hovered with her knuckles just inches away from the wooden door that kept her away from the physicist that was probably finishing up her ‘get ready’ routine. Holtzmann took a moment to compose herself and ran a hand through her hair, which was still up in a similar way to her usual up-do, but less like she’d been zapped by electricity. The curls were expertly styled by Patty’s capable hands, but one long one brushed her eyebrows and fell just above her eyes, off-center of her forehead. As she tried to tuck it aside, the engineer realized that it was a lost cause and hoped that Erin would find it – and her – irresistible.

         The blonde was no stranger to dating women. She’d done so casually for her entire adult existence, and she had quite some luck at charming women into her bed for an evening or two, but nothing stuck. She was married to her work, passionate about her machines, and now she had her family so she didn’t really need any kind of long-term companionship. Even if romance was a soft spot for the engineer, she never felt lonely these days, and she only had eyes for one woman, anyway. Erin Gilbert was so different, which was why she noticed her hands that were usually so steady, so capable, were trembling as she clutched the stems of the flowers and caused the cellophane to rustle loudly – shit, was it really that _loud?_ – in the otherwise quiet hallway. She counted her breath, her fingers, wiggled her toes in her shoes, and finally brought her hand against the door.

         Two knocks.

         Two knocks, and then she waited.

         Erin didn’t keep her waiting long, and when the door in front of her swung open, Jillian dropped the flowers at her feet.

         Her hands just… stopped working.

         Her jaw went slack as eyes roamed over the sight of Erin in that _fabulous, stunning, sexy…_ dress she was wearing.

         Erin’s eyes crinkled when she smiled, and Jillian was quick to recover, scooping low to swoop up the flowers before extending her arm and pressing them near her date.

         “These are for you,” she said.

         “Flowers? Holtz, they’re… they’re beautiful,” Erin said, obviously rolling with the theme of the evening, which seemed to be nerves, as the engineer picked up a tell-tale tremble in the other scientist’s words that were usually calculated and steady as the physicist’s equations. She was kind not to point out the engineer’s minor failure, her brief lapse in motor skills, and pressed her nose into the bouquet, smelling them with her eyes closed, and she looked so serene that Jillian almost wanted to reach out and touch her, stroke the back of her gloved hand against the woman’s cheek.

         “Not as beautiful as you, Erin. I thought I’d done good in finding a suitable pair, but… guess I fell short, huh?”

         She gave a dimpled smile and a wink, because she never cared about being cheesy – cheesy was her style, and clichés were poetry in her capable hands – and she could almost see Erin _melt_ in front of her, right into the floor.

         The redhead bit her bottom lip, and it was Holtzmann’s turn to blush and melt a little when she saw molten blue pools of deep, rich sapphire tracing her from head to toe and taking their time with the gesture. The engineer coughed and adjusted her collar, because she wasn’t a stranger to being checked out by women, and especially when she looked so nice, but Erin changed the game. She’d changed every aspect of the blonde’s game.

         “I’m going to put these in water. Do you want to come in, or I’ll just… be out in a second?”

         Electricity crackled between the two women and suddenly, what seemed like a sweet, innocent gesture suddenly felt like too much. Holtzmann had a perfect evening planned, but they were both grown women, grown women with needs who had been harboring feelings for each other for some time, and while this was a first date, it felt like so much more. They’d be foolish to classify it as anything else; all the signs were present.

         “I’m good out here, Er, but… yeah, just take your time. I’m early,” Holtz said, because of _course_ she was. She’d been looking forward to this night for months.

         “Just a second, I promise.”

         Erin didn’t even close the door, and Jillian leaned against the frame, looking at the redhead’s apartment with eyes that had already traced every corner before, as a platonic friend that desperately longed to be more and saw each beam, each piece of artwork, the throw on Erin’s living room couch where they had movie nights with the gang differently now. She wondered if Erin’s bedroom would look different, too, if or when she got an invitation to take the physicist to bed.

         Her feet didn’t cross the threshold. They didn’t dare.

         For all her cavalier seduction of women, she was an old-fashioned romantic at heart.

         _First dates should end with a first kiss, if you’re lucky._

         It was her mantra, her promise to herself.

         Besides, it was New Year’s Eve.

         It would spoil everything to kiss Erin before they saw a new year dawn, together, shining a bright light on something equally substantial, the promise of a year spent as one instead of two.

         The car ride to the Mayor’s Ball was spent with Jillian fidgeting, awkwardly, until Erin struck up a conversation that felt like the ones they’d always had before, before she’d ever asked the physicist out and started their path toward a new trajectory. It was safe, comfortable, and as the engineer’s knee stilled instead of jostling up and down as a testament to her nerves, she couldn’t help but look at the redhead next to her, take her hand, and give a grateful smile.

         Erin laced their fingers together and smiled back.

         They didn’t need to say a word for the rest of the trip.

         Jillian fetched their drinks with a flourish, happy to take the lead while Erin stayed close to her side, their arms linked, and she knew that they turned a few heads. There were whispers, and the whispers made both women nervous for different reasons, but neither cared as soon as music started and dancing began.

         Erin’s blush was even prettier in dim lighting, and when Jillian offered her hand and bowed low, the physicist couldn’t help but take the engineer’s lead and allow herself to be whisked onto the floor where they spun and swayed with other bodies. Other couples. Jillian placed her hand on Erin’s hip, curling her fingers around the soft material of the redhead’s dress before it snaked around further, lightly skimming the small of her back before she got a bit bolder, daring to push a little, adding pressure and eliminating the space between their bodies as they moved around the floor.

         The physicist was surprisingly light on her feet.

         Erin wasn’t at all surprised at Holtzmann being a good dancer; she watched her dance in the lab all the time. It was a little more carefree, then, a little more whimsical, but she always has this ethereal grace to her movements, and now Erin got to feel that soft body and the occasional hard plane – who knew she had so much _muscle_ – under her fingertips when her hand moved down the blonde’s arm, curled around her forearm, rested at the top of a strong shoulder, and touched every part of her dance partner that she could reach without crossing a line.

         One of the songs was one Jillian knew, and well.

         She sang the lyrics into Erin’s ear, low and sultry, as they held each other tight for the duration of the ballad.

         “You’re a fantastic singer, Holtzmann,” Erin cooed when the song was over, and pressed a soft kiss to the blonde’s jawline. She adored the engineer’s side profile, the angles and shape of her.

         “I don’t pull those tricks out of my hat for just anyone, Gilbert.”

         The look in her eyes told the redhead that she was having one of her rare moments of sincerity, a calm breeze of honesty that dawned in the heartbeat between moments.

         “But you’re not wearing a hat.”

         “Yeah, ‘cause Patty said I couldn’t.”

         The moment passed, the next song started, and Erin laughed against Jillian’s shoulder.

         Eventually, the party began to wind down and people made their ways to the exits. Jillian placed her blazer around Erin’s shoulders when the physicist shivered from a particularly brisk chill in the air, and she wondered if the blonde would be cold – New York winters could be so unforgiving – and when she inquired, the engineer’s answer was simple.

         “I’m too happy to be cold. I’m with you.”

         Eventually, when they were in Times Square, nestled amongst all the other people in the crowd, eyes upturned toward the glittery ball in the sky with a dimmed 2017 that was lowering into position, Erin stopped being cold, too.

         Jillian shivered, but only once, and Erin caught on immediately, responding by wrapping an arm around the blonde’s waist and encouraging her date to snuggle close, head on her shoulder, breath against her neck.

         The countdown began.

         She and Holtzmann chanted with the crowd. The blonde pumped her fist into the air with each descending number, one second closer, then two, then five.

          _Three, two, one_ _…_

_HAPPY NEW YEAR!_

Jillian stirred in Erin’s arms, and while everyone around them was already celebrating, kissing, hugging, crying, singing, dancing, they were still in that moment; their eyes locked and suspended them in time. Erin crooked a finger under Jillian’s chin and she could have sworn she saw the engineer’s heart skip a beat. Her breath, which had been propelled out by shaky lungs, hitting the cool air and coming out as steam, stopped. The entire world stopped, for all they knew. Lights and sounds were muted. The world around grew hazy, but the sight of each other was aflame with color, such bright, bold color, as if they’d never really _looked_ at each other, into each other’s eyes before.

         Erin’s thumb traced across Jillian’s full bottom lip.

         Jillian kissed the pad of her thumb and long lashes fluttered against the blonde’s high cheekbones, prefacing the gesture before her eyes closed entirely, just for a second before they opened brighter and more beautiful than Erin had ever seen them before.

         Blue eyes lacked in melanin; the stroma contains less in blue-eyed people than those with brown eyes. The pigment is on the back layer of the eye, so when light scatters across the iris of blue-eyed individuals, it’s not wholly dissimilar to when light reflects off the sky or ocean, creating an ever-changing atmosphere of tint and differentiating color.

         On everyone else, it was just science.

         Facts and figures.

         When Erin looked into Jillian’s eyes, she saw the wonders of the world.

         She saw magic.

         The physicist lowered her head and felt a newly exhaled breath like a whisper or a sigh against her lips. It was hot, gentle, a prelude to an orchestral swell before the sound dropped entirely, leaving the audience in suspense for the next movement.

         Jillian mewled, a soft sound from the back of her throat before she closed the gap between them, taking Erin’s bottom lip between hers gently, so gently, and then they were on _fire_. Hands grasped at hips, fingers tangled through hair, breaths and moans and sighs met each other in a whirlwind of chemistry. Erin’s entire body felt heavy, and Jillian was light as a feather, floating in the space between them and waiting for the redhead to ground her, to challenge her and tether her so she’d never have to float alone, in space, again. Clothing was gripped and wrinkled, their lungs burned for air and neither woman could bring herself to stop as they just kept kissing.

         A few people cheered around them, maybe at the display, maybe at the ceremony, but they didn’t notice.

         Erin’s lips were bruised when they finally broke.

         Jillian brought a hand to hers, smiling when she felt the tingle against her fingertips.

         “Happy New Year, Jillian.”

         “Happy New Year.”


	3. Be Mine, Valentine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, faithful readers! I'm sorry this chapter took me a little longer to get up than I would have liked; it's been a busy work week for me, and I'm sorry to keep you waiting. Hopefully, going forward, I'll be able to get two or three chapters up weekly (that's the goal, at least). Anyway, this is still definitely fluff, but I like a little bit of funny stuff and the unexpected with said fluff every now and again and I hope you do, too.

     Valentine’s Day is for lovers.

     Maybe she and Holtzmann aren’t lovers yet – they’re going slowly, taking their time even if the anticipation may kill them both – but this time, Erin is determined to take the reins and do something nice for her _girlfriend?_ Yeah, the physicist assumes it’s safe to refer to the spunky blonde that way since they’ve basically been inseparable – and not in a platonic friend way – since New Year’s Eve.

     So far, Holtz has taken it upon herself to do something nice for Erin every holiday, full stop, in a way that only the engineer could pull off. Every detail is perfect, just like one of her weapons or machines, planned to the last detail and designed for Erin’s happiness. Valentine’s Day seems like the perfect time to turn the tables.

     A week before, she starts planting the seeds – mostly so Jillian won’t take it upon herself to do something that will counteract the redhead’s own ideas – with a single text message.

      _Valentine’s Day is coming up. Why don’t you let me take charge of this one?_

      She adds a wink-face emoji for emphasis.

      Holtz seems delighted, and maybe a little bit nervous, at the prospect. Erin has learned that Holtzmann doesn’t like giving up control, mostly because her mind works in mysterious, wonderful ways that are conducive to her having her way with little interference from others. She’s a free spirit, a bold, bright light that won’t be controlled or tethered even if she finds comfort in Erin’s gravity.

     After the text message is sent, Erin retreats into her research, and not of a scientific nature – not technically – this time. She plans everything, from the restaurant to the ‘after-party,’ which includes dancing at a jazz club that’s very underground and will give her an excuse to be pressed up against Holtzmann again, just like she was at the Mayor’s Ball. She buys champagne two days before, puts it in her fridge, and orders flowers – sunflowers, which are Holtz’s favorite – for an impressive bouquet, her attempt to turn the first exchange of flowers around because there wasn’t necessarily anything that said she couldn’t buy flowers for her girlfriend, too. Despite her hesitance to count chickens before they hatch, Erin even buys bubble bath and lingerie for the ‘after-party’ at her apartment, because they’re both grown women with needs, and maybe it’s a little cliché to have sex for the first time on Valentine’s Day, but if the mood does strike – and the physicist is hoping it will – Erin wants to be prepared, goddamn it. The idea of having sex with a woman for the first time is already nerve-wracking enough, and when she thinks about it being _Jillian’s_ hands on her and _Jillian_ naked in her bed, _Jillian_ writhing beneath her and moaning her name… it’s almost enough for her to freak out and give control back to the blonde, who would probably handle all this romantic, holiday planning a hell of a lot better.

     But she doesn’t.

     No, because this is going to be perfect.

     Erin Gilbert can do romance because Holtzmann deserves someone who can, someone who will go that extra mile, just for her. They haven’t talked much about the engineer’s past relationships, but Erin gets the sense that she hasn’t had many that have been serious, if she’s had any serious ones at all, and while none of hers have been staggering in their romantic glory, she’s had partners who have cared for her before, boyfriends who tried to make her feel loved and special, even if it never lasted long. Holtzmann is a giver, someone who pours her all into her passions, and Erin thinks some of her hesitancy to commit is due to being burned by women who took and took without giving anything back, and that thought breaks her heart.

     Abby and Patty understand Erin’s intentions to make Valentine’s Day an all-day event for the two of them, and while she receives a bit of goading from her best friend and a few jokes from Patty, she takes them with a swell of pride because it shows that she’s willing to put herself out there when she’s always been so skittish before, so reserved and cautious.

     Holtzmann makes her want to throw every ounce of caution to the wind and let the chips fall where they may for the first time in her life, and the thought is liberating and terrifying, but it makes Erin feel like she’s never really breathed fresh air before and now she gets the chance to try, at long last.

 

* * *

 

        

     When Valentine’s Day arrived, Erin was awake, in bed, waiting for a sign from Holtzmann that she received ‘Phase One,’ or the bouquet of flowers that the redhead arranged to arrive on her doorstep by one of those cheesy, singing-telegraph types she figured Holtzmann would enjoy, just because it was so out there and different and seemed like something she’d do for someone she loved.

     That last word hit Erin dead-center in her chest, because it seemed so soon to love the blonde, too soon, terrifyingly soon, but hormones and emotions weren’t on any sort of schedule, not really. Society dictated all these rules for not calling someone until three days after the first meeting or putting out on the third date, but not before unless you wanted to run the risk of being ‘easy.’ Time was mutable because it sank into everything, and both women knew how vast and unpredictable the universe could be, so it really wasn’t _that_ ridiculous to think they might fall in love at a faster track than what society thought was ‘normal.’

     An hour went by, and Erin checked her phone for their itinerary. Lunch was the first thing on the agenda; it wasn’t a fancy meal, not like she intended dinner to be, but Holtzmann’s favorite traveling hot dog cart was set up in Central Park, and Erin figured it would provide a perfect opportunity for them to snack and walk a little in natural serenity, in one of the most beautiful places she’d ever been, with the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen by her side, holding her hand while she tried not to drip yellow mustard down her chin. The redhead knew Holtz wouldn’t be able to avoid that particular food failure – she was messy, and that was part of her charm – but in all Erin’s fantasies about how their day together would go, all the outcomes she ran through her brain’s internal processor, she saw herself dabbing at the yellow stains on the blonde’s chin with a napkin, lovingly gazing into the shorter woman’s eyes, laughing as Holtzmann cracked some silly joke and tried to fit the rest of the hot dog inside her mouth without even chewing.

     Another hour passed, and Erin began to wear a hole in the throw rug she’d bought a few weeks back as she paced back in forth in her living room. A normal person would have just called their girlfriend, already, especially on _Valentine’s Day_ , but there was a piece of Erin that still worried about being pushy, about being too needy or clingy, and Holtz didn’t seem to be the type of person who would appreciate that at all. Quite the opposite. Erin recalled a few times when she or Abby had inserted themselves harmlessly into the engineer’s ‘process’ when she was working on a machine. They’d thought they were being helpful, but when blue eyes caught them with stormy darkness, peering through them as harsh lines replaced the typically whimsical features that seemed so content to be fixed into some awkwardly hilarious expression, they knew a mistake was made and shuffled to the other side of the firehouse without another word.

     A third hour passed, and Erin’s hands flew to the keyboard of her phone without a second thought.

     If there was a need for damage control, it was better to act sooner rather than later.

_Singing telegraph guy was too much, huh?_

     The tongue-sticking-out emoji seemed too much to tack on to the end of her inquiry, but she sent it in a separate text before thinking better of it and immediately regretted hitting ‘send.’

     Erin settled down onto her couch and felt a ball of lead weight settle into her stomach, hot and angry, tearing her nerves apart like frayed wires that had no real connection point in sight. She was frazzled, running her hands through her hair and mussing it every which way, beyond fixing without another shower and a bunch of product to refresh the look she’d adopted for the occasion. At least she wasn’t tearing it out.

     Yet.

     Her next action was to storm over to the engineer’s apartment, because she knew she hadn’t slept at the firehouse. Patty and Abby promised they’d make sure she ‘left at a decent hour and stayed put’ so Phase One could go smoothly. Jillian almost never slept at her apartment, not since she’d claimed the second floor of the firehouse and they’d let her have all that space for her machines and projects, and Erin knew she probably didn’t like it there.

     What if she’d had some sort of panic attack?

     What if she’d wandered the city streets, alone, because she was denied entry back into the firehouse for no good reason other than a looming surprise that might not have even been a good idea in the first place?

_Singing telegraph guy?_

     Instead of typing a response to Holtz’s question – which didn’t make sense at all, because she’d made sure to verify the recipient’s address and an appropriate time at least thrice – Erin hit the call button instead, waiting two rings before the engineer’s voice greeted her on the other end.

     “Go for Holtzmann,” the ‘radio announcer’ voice she liked to use chirped into the physicist’s ear, but it was… different. First, Erin wondered why she hadn’t noticed that it was her calling and not some random person. Second, there was a scratchy quality to the engineer’s voice that sounded pained, almost like she was sad, or sick, or… Erin’s mind was alight with worry and she couldn’t hold back the stream of concern she lobbed at her girlfriend through the phone.

     “God, I was so worried about you! You hadn’t texted me, and I told you I was making plans, so I started thinking that maybe you didn’t like my plans, and maybe I can’t actually do Valentine’s Day, Holtz, but I really, _really_ wanted to make it special for you because you’re special to me and---“

     “Erin, slow your roll,” Holtzmann said, her voice even-keel before she launched into an odd, gagging sound that made the redhead wince. “I’ve been on the bathroom floor for… close to four hours now, and I’m not gonna say it looks like you after a bust in my toilet right now, but it’s close. Real close.”

     Erin’s nose wrinkled because that was entirely too much information and enough to make her heart bleed with more worry for the blonde, who sounded more and more miserable by the second.

     “Did you eat something that didn’t agree with you? Maybe it’s just a 24-hour stomach thing, or…?”

     “I wish I had the strength to summon a hypothesis, my darling, but I barely have enough left in the tank to pray to the Porcelain Gods, yet it’s still an unfortunate necessity.”

     “Probably good you didn’t greet the singing telegraph guy, then.”

     “Oh, my head would have spun around and projectile vomited all over him _and_ the hallway,” Holtzmann confirmed.

     A part of Erin was devastated because she really had worked hard on making Valentine’s Day perfect for the engineer, but she supposed life was just a series of rolling with the punches, and very little said you cared for someone more than the way you treated them when they were sick. Where most would have probably shied away, taken a rain check, or turned tail entirely, Erin was met with the burning lead of fierce determination, and it fueled her to make the day memorable despite the odds that were stacked against them. Maybe it wouldn’t be passionate romance, but they had plenty of time for that.

     “Are you in the phase where food sounds disgusting or awesome?”

     “Babe, you’ve _seen_ me eat. I’m always hungry, even when I’m… yeah, I’m gonna spare you any further details, or you’ll probably never wanna kiss me again.”

     Erin laughed, because of course Holtzmann would maintain her flawless comedic timing even when she was under the weather.

     “Impossible,” the physicist replied, because since New Year’s, the two had done a lot of kissing. A _lot_ of kissing. The feeling of Holtzmann’s nimble fingers curling around her ribcage to pull her closer, fingertips down her jawline, threaded through her hair while those slim curves melded into hers… the redhead cleared her throat. _That_ was not an appropriate line of thinking when her girlfriend was likely still plastered to her bathroom floor, struck down by some fierce illness that was probably just a temporary nuisance, enough to put a damper on her libido until the storm passed. Now, she had to go into caretaker mode, and it was oddly comforting for the redhead to be in such a position where she could engage in such domesticity. It was unlike anything she’d experienced before, with a partner, and while she and Holtz were still so shiny and new, the friendship that preceded their budding relationship brought comfort and trust to their dynamic that warmed her like the first thaw of springtime as it brought everything back to life. “Would you be okay with company? I’d still very much like to spend the day with you. I’ll bring soup?”

     “Would you bring nachos instead?”

     “Holtz, I don’t think your plumbing is prepared for the backlash that nachos could potentially cause.”

     “Smart, Gilbert,” the engineer replied, then paused. “Pho, extra noodles, extra spicy?”

     “Regular spicy.”

     “Sold.”

 

* * *

 

 

     Erin showed up at Holtzmann’s apartment an hour later with two large tubs of Pho, both with extra noodles, and she’d been good about double checking so they wouldn’t have an Abby’s wonton soup situation on their hands when she finally settled down with the woman she couldn’t stop thinking about in any way, shape, or form. Even though she knew they wouldn’t be doing much more than lounging on the couch, maybe with a few science documentaries or whatever the engineer felt like binge-watching, the redhead had made sure to look nice. She’d picked a tight-fitting sweater, light blue in color, her favorite pair of jeans, and spritzed herself with some light perfume, nothing too heavy. Next to the door, Erin spotted the flowers she’d ordered and picked them up, tucking them under her free arm and redistributing all the items she was carrying. Erin balanced the paper sack on her hip and knocked on the engineer’s door and smiled when she heard the chain rattling on the other side. Holtz opened the door, and she looked _adorable_ with her hair up in a messy bun – not her usual up-do, because so many tendrils were falling in her face, and it was more feminine somehow, and perfect – and pajamas. The red robe was a familiar sight because she wore it around the firehouse sometimes, but she had a ribbed tank top on underneath and baggy sweatpants with giant pockets that were almost _too_ giant – seriously, what was she trying to smuggle in there? The sweats were pushed up to her mid-calf and held with the tight ring of elastic at the bottom, and she was barefoot despite the cold. Her blue eyes were darker, there were bags under her eyes that suggested she hadn’t slept well the night before, and despite her usually commanding presence that made her seem larger than life, Holtz seemed so _small_ in this light. Even so, she managed a half-smile, one that still showed her prominent dimples, and looked at Erin with pure gratitude pooling in her eyes. The redhead handed Holtzmann the flowers first, then held up the bag of soup.

     “Smells great,” she commented, then moved aside so Erin could enter. The physicist kicked off her boots off to the side while Holtzmann found a spot for the bouquet, which the blonde had buried her nose in thrice already, then set the bag down on an end table in the hallway and wrapped her arms around the engineer, drawing Holtzmann into her embrace and allowing her girlfriend to cling, just a little. Physical comfort always seemed to alleviate some of her yucky feelings when she was under the weather; she hoped it would be just as effective on Holtz. The feeling of Holtzmann’s breath, hot on her neck when she nuzzled closer and inhaled, made Erin shiver. “Cold?” The blonde’s voice was husky in her ear, and Erin bit her bottom lip to stifle any other sounds that might come out; it was necessary for her to stay on her best behavior instead of trying to push her sick girlfriend’s limits.

     “Quite the opposite, actually. You need to behave, you’re sick,” Erin said, but her tone wasn’t exactly convincing. Holtz placed a soft kiss against Erin’s pulse and grinned up at her before withdrawing from the physicist’s embrace with a soft sigh of reluctance.

     “Spoilsport. I’m clearly just trying to show you how grateful I am that you came to my aid,” Holtzmann said, waggling her eyebrows before she was caught by a sudden wave of something that looked like either pain or nausea, and Erin grabbed the blonde with both hands to help stabilize her.

     “All right, Casanova, to the couch.”

     “Bossy.”

     “I think it’s something you’ll come to appreciate about me. Now shoo. I’ll get the soup ready.”

     Erin made herself comfortable in the kitchen, finding bowls and spoons with relative ease. She had picked up chopsticks for the noodles, but the broth was part of the best part, and hopefully would add some liquid to Holtz’s system and leave her with a full belly along with, she hoped, the inclination to rest a while so she could recover.

     “I was watching _Magic School Bus_ , is that okay?”

     Holtz’s voice called to her from the couch, which Erin could see from the open-concept kitchen, and she smiled.

     “Whatever makes you happy. I’m not surprised cartoons are your go-to, however.”

     “Science cartoons, Gilbert. They’re entertaining _and_ educational,” Holtzmann insisted as Erin settled next to her, then handed one of the two bowls of Pho across the couch. Holtz pulled her knees up to her chin and balanced the bowl on her kneecaps with surprising grace, stabilized it with one hand, and tore the chopsticks free of their paper wrapper with her teeth. Once she was armed for consumption, she hit ‘play’ on her remote and fired up the next episode of her show. Erin was careful not to bump her, but moved close enough that they were touching, and the two sat in silence until their bowls were empty and stacked neatly on the coffee table in front of the couch. Erin draped her arm around Holtz’s shoulders, inviting the blonde to snuggle close and let loose a sigh of soul-deep relief when she followed the quiet request by nuzzling her head into the crook between Erin’s neck and shoulder, then wrapped an arm around the physicist’s waist.

    “Are you comfortable?” Erin whispered the question into the blonde’s hair.

    “Mhmm. I have the best girlfriend ever,” came Holtzmann’s semi-sleepy reply. “You can change it to something else if I pass out.”

    “You should really try to rest, Jill.”

     Holtzmann kissed the top of Erin’s shoulder and laced their fingers together; the blonde hadn’t confirmed it aloud, but she seemed to get intensely affectionate whenever Erin called her by some variation of her first name when they were alone together.

     “But I wanted to spend Valentine’s with you. I feel like I ruined it, all your plans and… all _my_ plans.”

     “You weren’t supposed to make any plans.”

     The engineer yawned and cuddled closer, moving her hand slightly underneath Erin’s sweaters for skin-to-skin contact that remained chaste, more of a need for comfort than anything else, as her nimble fingers draw small circles over the physicist’s side.

     “Yeah, but they wouldn’t interfere with your plans. I made sure.”

     “How would you know what I had planned?” Erin arched an eyebrow skyward and looked down at her girlfriend.

     “I just figured you’d want me to take the reins in bed, s’all,” Holtzmann said, and Erin almost choked on her own saliva with how sudden the confession was, how blatantly charged, and how it made her body respond immediately with a rush of heat right to the apex of her thighs. “I wasn’t gonna insist, of course, but y’know… I _know_ things. Don’t worry, though, hot stuff. Once ‘m back in fightin’ shape, it’s _on_.”

     The raspy rumble of the engineer’s voice wasn’t helping her current predicament, and for a moment, Erin sat there, mouth open, doing her best impersonation of a flytrap before she thought of the perfect response. As soon as she was about to loft it in Holtz’s direction, add a bit of payback that was necessary, given how she was now uncomfortably aroused and unable to do anything about it, she heard a sound leave the blonde that was unmistakable.

     Snoring.

     She was snoring.

     Erin exhaled an uncomfortably short laugh because she was pinned between the throbbing adoration of her heart and the painful ache between her legs as her traitorous mind wandered to all the things Holtzmann probably _knew_.

     So maybe it wasn’t Erin’s perfect Valentine’s Day.

     Holtzmann was her perfect match in every way, and at the end of the day, Erin knew that was the only thing that mattered. If she had any say in the matter, they would have many more Valentine’s and many more holidays to celebrate, together.

     Even if she did snore like a cave bear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is the stuff dreams are made of - thank you for all the kudos and kind words!


	4. Who Run the World (Girls!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is really, really long. I got carried away. I've been sick, life's been weird, and I've had a lot of feelings about political shit and women's rights and equality and I'm a hella feminist, and it just all kinda... barfed out. I hope you like this chapter, I'm still not 100% sure about my feelings toward it, but there's smut at the end, so yay? Yeah, I'm earning my 'M' rating here. Dipping my toes in the water. Happy belated International Women's Day to all my ladies out there. Keep doing what you're doing, being fierce and strong.

Despite the mayor’s attempts to keep their work quiet, the Ghostbusters were becoming very well known in New York City. The ‘Busters didn’t long for fame and recognition, but it was nice to have sponsorship, money coming in to assist with their research, people who took a vested interest in their work and saw it as _valid_ , for a change. Finally, the mayor was starting to cave on his ‘ghosts aren’t real, and the Ghostbusters are whack jobs’ stance, coming instead to a mindset where he figured if there wasn’t a way to silence them, he might as well embrace them. It seemed too good to be true in a lot of ways; they’d already been generously gifted the firehouse, even if they’d risked their lives to save the city, and having a fan base was kind of weird, but it was a work in progress. Any good scientist knew that change was to be handled just like any other variable, one that could be tested and applied to numerous mediums, until a proper result came to fruition. Change was inevitable, and they could either get stuck in the past or look toward the future; they were firmly on the same page about the future of their little family, about their work’s ability to really do some good and help a lot of people, even if it meant doing some really, really ridiculous press releases and parties like the one they were set to do on International Women’s Day.

It was flattering, all of them were good feminists who believed in equal rights without throwing men under the bus and treating them poorly – that wasn’t feminism, after all – and some guys were quite good and progressive. Even though he still couldn’t figure out how to properly work the phones and Mike Hat was probably a better receptionist, Kevin was very dear to all of them, and his support and encouragement warmed them on their darkest days. Research and science had taken a temporary back-seat to the speeches they were supposed to give at a special press tour for International Women’s Day that was basically a big ‘to-do’ about how New York’s government valued women as equals – just look at the Ghostbusters, they’re all women, women heroes, even! What a concept.

Abby and Erin volunteered to take the brunt of the work, as they weren’t precisely the co-founders, but they had enough experience with public speaking that they would be relatively comfortable doing the ‘meet the press’ part of the day, with Holtzmann and Patty standing proudly beside them, chiming in when they were comfortable. Patty wasn’t precisely shy about public speaking, but there was only so much calm in the historian’s body, and the others already knew she’d be tempting fate – and every reporter with a potential question – to say something that might unhinge that paper-thin resolve not to set them in their place for being naysayers about lady Ghostbusters. Holtzmann, however… the engineer was sweating bullets, because she wasn’t against being in the public eye; she knew the fame and how it had somehow stumbled upon their doorstep, she had a freaking _fan club_ for Christ’s sake, and was probably the most popular of all of them, if they got down to brass tacks about it, but she did not like feeling trapped. Being still was not something she’d ever been good at, and having a bunch of eyes staring at her, waiting for her to emote in a way that wasn’t a jubilant ‘we just caught a ghost, you’re welcome’ like she did on their busts when the press just so happened to catch wind and be waiting outside of their current location, set her nerves on fire.

She’d slept at the firehouse the night before. Erin made sure to bring her suit from the dry cleaner’s, neat and pressed, and ensure that she showered and got all spiffed up, mostly because it was a somewhat fancy event and because Erin Gilbert was slowly realizing that she had a fetish for Jillian Holtzmann in formal wear. That wasn’t to say she didn’t love the engineer’s quirky style, the crop tops and colorful robes and paint/oil splattered everything, the fact that nothing ever matched unless she – or someone else – insisted, and the wild randomness of it all met in a jumble like a Rorschach test. As the other two women got ready in a separate part of the firehouse, she and Jillian occupied the same space and her engineer was… silent. She looked in the mirror and applied make-up, bright, bold red lipstick, eyeliner that made her eyes stand out more than was physiologically fair, double checked her hair to make sure every loose ringlet fell just so over the tailored, black blazer. The waist was cinched, fitting her every subtle curve, her pants accentuated her long legs, and she’d insisted on pinstripes, even though the black on black ensemble was classic enough; it added a touch of _Holtzmann_ and nobody was going to deny the engineer a chance to add a little of herself where she was already chewing her nails with discomfort. Erin noticed the torn cuticles, the redness from where she’d been picking and fidgeting, and crossed the room, taking both of the engineer’s hands in her own and crooking a finger under the blonde’s chin, raising her head just enough that they could make eye-contact.

“Do you want me to bring your goggles?”

“It’s not appropriate, Erin,” Jillian murmured. The goggles were a security blanket, Erin had learned, something that kept the world from getting too much and too bright, too loud – it was just another part of her to love, as far as the physicist was concerned, and she wanted to try to find some happy middle ground where Jillian could exist in a crowd without wanting to tear out of her own skin. The dance on New Year’s had been different; it had been a date, them as a couple, with everyone else tending to their own business around them, not caring who they were as much or why they were there because they were centrally focused on their own good time. There was an underlying layer of pressure when it came to the mayor making an example of them and their hard work on this occasion, and while it was an honor, it was also sort of a hindrance.

“Who cares about propriety? I care about you being comfortable. You look beautiful, by the way,” Erin said, realizing with the confident statement, the outward admiration of the blonde, just how far she’d come in a few, short months. Holtzmann smiled, her eyes crinkling around the edges as she smoothed thumbs over the back of Erin’s hands.

“You’re gonna drop every jaw in that effin’ building, Gilbert,” Holtzmann replied, her voice a husky purr that sounded more like _herself_ than Erin had heard in days. Erin blushed, swatting playfully in the blonde’s direction, an ‘oh shucks’ maneuver that rebuilt some of the engineer’s confidence as she swooped in and captured the redhead’s lips with her own. The kiss was relatively chaste, a simmer under the surface that threatened to burst free, deepen into more if the two women weren’t careful, but they tried. Oh, did they try to retain an ounce of cognizance to where they were and what they needed to be doing not too far in the future, and it wouldn’t do to be aroused and ruffled when they left the room to rejoin Abby and Patty. They were tight-lipped about the nature of their intimate relations, but Patty and Abby had already struck an iron-clad ‘no sex in the firehouse’ rule that they had to heed once that line was crossed. Erin’s tongue traced Jillian’s bottom lip, tasting minty toothpaste and lipstick, and the blonde responded in kind, tangling her fingers in Erin’s hair, carefully, and pressing their bodies close until no space could squeeze between them. As Erin traced her fingertips down Jillian’s arms, she felt the blonde relax, sighing against her mouth as the kiss deepened, just a little, and they broke seconds later, smiles split wide as they looked into each other’s eyes, finding peace and acceptance there. Before Jillian, Erin had been a nervous wreck, always second-guessing herself and worrying herself sick about others’ perceptions of who or what she was; she tore herself apart with ‘what if’s’ and the insecurity of the void, and let occasional bouts of paranoia, whispers in the dark about Ghost Girl get the better of her when she laid in bed at night, realizing that she’d given up the security of Columbia for a misplaced, adolescent fantasy.

Holtzmann had always been different, misunderstood, but she was blissfully unaware of the talk, mostly because she never made time for anyone but her experiments, her work, to the point where she existed as a solo counterpoint to the world. There was no room for friends, she had no family to speak of, and if she worked hard enough on her projects, she wouldn’t feel the sting of loneliness like a bitter wind that whipped through her veins and sank deep, bringing her to the edge of melancholy before it lowered her gently into a fog of despair, the fear that nobody would ever _see_ her. Abby Yates changed the game, at first, showing her that someone could see value in an outlier, a loveable, eccentric outcast who talked too fast, loved too hard, and trusted too easily. Erin gently crept into her heart, and while Jillian was reluctant, given her past with Abby and the knowledge that she could and did walk away when things got hard, the engineer found herself tearing her own heart from her chest and placing it in the physicist’s hands despite her better judgement because the world was _beautiful_ with Erin Gilbert by her side. It was beautiful in a way that wasn’t too heavy, in a way that her goggles and all her safety and self-preservation methods that were time-tested and iron-forged couldn’t touch because it was pure and different, just like she was different. In matters of the heart, Jillian was surprisingly careful, not her usually reckless self, but she was reckless with Erin, throwing caution to the wind and never, ever looking back. Whenever the redhead smiled at her, danced with her, laughed with her, she felt whole. Complete. Because Erin loved her not in spite of her oddities, but because of them and embraced her as a whole being, a masterful encryption that only she had the tools to solve.

“If you lovebirds are done sucking face in there, we got fancy shit to do!”

Patty’s voice and a loud knock interrupted them, because they hadn’t precisely been ‘sucking face’ – at least, not anymore – and were content to just stand there and _stare_ at each other, almost like they couldn’t believe they’d come this far.

“Let me just find Erin’s panties, and we’ll---“

Erin clasped a hand over Holtzmann’s mouth and shrieked, realizing as soon as the sound left her mouth that it wasn’t exactly adding innocence to the engineer’s brazen remark, which had been crafted entirely to set Patty on an awkward ledge that they all tap-danced around, not because the other two women were unhappy with their budding relationship, but because they didn’t want or need details. And understandably so. Erin knew that once they got to that point, she wouldn’t want to share a damn bit of it because it would likely be… explosive, dynamic in ways she’d been longing to comprehend, and yet couldn’t touch even in her wildest fever dreams and fantasies. They’d gotten close, painfully close, and that had almost unhinged her.

“Holtzy!”

Patty did _not_ sound amused.

“She’s—she’s kidding, I mean. We know the rules, and it’s… it’s rather inappropriate to…”

Jillian’s face, smug and pleased with herself at how Erin started spinning her wheels just to put herself back in the historian’s good graces, was worth the awkwardness of the moment. Awkwardness passed, after all, and Patty put up with enough shenanigans from all of them on a semi-regular basis that she’d learned how to be quick to forgive, even if patience wasn’t her forte. Erin smoothed her hands over the baby-blue sundress she wore, one that was a little less fancy than some of the formal wear she’d chosen for previous events, but still looked nice when it was pressed to her lean figure in a straight line, accentuating her long limbs and tanned skin. Jill had certainly liked it, judging by the way she’d licked her lips not once, but _twice_ when the physicist had stepped out of the bathroom, her make-up and hair complete and adding to the overall look.

“Kidding, Pattycakes! I wouldn’t want Dr. Gilbert to be ruffled before her big speech, so I’m keeping it in my pants,” the engineer called back through the door, mumbling each syllable with surprising clarity around the palm of Erin’s hand. Erin sighed and lowered her hand, glad that her girlfriend had at least been considerate enough to verbalize a retraction to her previous statement, as she wasn’t as believable, for some reason. “…for now.”

 

* * *

 

 

There was a reason why Holtzmann didn’t drink.

She was a lightweight.

Seriously, two drinks and she was straddling the atmosphere, giggly and loose, and not in a good way. She got devious, playful, _mischievous_ in ways that weren’t really appropriate for this kind of adult setting, and once Patty saw the blonde with her third glass of champagne, she shot across the room to chaperone, since Erin and Abby were schmoozing, as they promised they would.

“Patty. Patty, don’t you think Erin looks _beautiful_ right now? I mean, I love her when she’s covered in ectoplasm, and maybe that’s ‘cause I get these images, y’know, of her washing it off later, yunno what I mean?” Holtzmann waggled her eyebrows relentlessly, nudging Patty with a sharp elbow like some boisterous frat boy. Patty’s mouth dropped open a bit, not because she was shocked by this kind of talk from the intoxicated engineer, but because she couldn’t think of an immediate comeback. Right before she did, the blonde weaseled away from the historian and launched herself across the room toward a table of hors d’oeuvres that were being set out on dainty, tiny plates by cater waiters. Holtzmann started popping each morsel into her mouth, sometimes _tossing_ the tiny bites up in the air and trying to catch them with her mouth. She missed twice, and it was right when she was about to pick up some bacon and cheese morsel that Patty swooped her away from the table and wrapped an arm around the petite blonde with a soft chuckle in someone’s direction.

“Girl, what’s got into you? Besides the alcohol, I mean.”

“So many eyeballs, watchin’ me, watchin’ us… y’know, I used to hate them for thinking we were fake, that our machines weren’t—“ she belched, cleared her throat, then continued, “my inventions were fakes, that ghosts weren’t real, and now I hate ‘em ‘cause they think we’re some kind of prize ponies, Pattycakes.”

In a very Holtzmann way, it all made sense.

She continued anyway, holding a finger up to the sky like she was about to give some grand speech, and Patty fought a giggle of her own.

“And now Abby and Erin – my sweet, sweet Erin Gilbert – are gonna get up on a stage and talk about how women are brave and special and _fearless_ and capable when they’ve been telling us for years that we’re not part of the boys’ club, but now we’re important because we saved their ASSES,” she said, directing the word like venom at a couple balding, white guys that were staring at them, probably trying to figure out what the zany blonde was muttering about.

“I think it’s pretty damn brave, them doing this. It’s good, for women, seeing strong ladies gettin’ up there and gettin’ shit done. Business handled. You should be proud of your girl,” Patty said, squeezing Holtz’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I guess so. I just… we were always special, you know?”

“I know, baby. But now we get to show ‘em we were right all along.”

The mayor stepped up to the microphone a few seconds later and called them all on stage, and Patty made sure to give Holtz’s half-full glass of champagne to someone else, for safekeeping, as they made their way up. Erin looked at Holtzmann, a sidelong glance, and saw the flush in the blonde’s cheeks. Yet, there wasn’t any sort of admonishment behind the look – she knew her girlfriend was nervous, knew her feelings about this whole parade – but rather, a steely determination that struck Erin as Abby stepped up to the microphone to thank the mayor and start in on her part of the speech. After a few minutes – they were determined to keep it relatively brief – she handed the microphone off to Erin, who squeezed Holtz’s hand and hugged Abby before accepting it.

“First and foremost, I’d like to thank you for this opportunity to speak, publicly, about something so many of us have allowed to go unchecked for a long time. Too long, if you ask me. I wish we didn’t need to have an International Women’s Day – we don’t have an International Men’s Day – and why is that? Because men have always had the control, the power, the recognition for their efforts in every single field. Science. Politics. Education. You name it, and a man is somewhere at the cornerstone of foundation, and yet if you look closer, there are women that are interwoven in that tapestry, known of, but not revered in the same way for their hard work and _equal_ effort,” Erin said, her voice empowered in a way that made Holtzmann burn as she spoke. “Our field is… experimental, and six months ago, it was a hoax. To all of you, it was a hoax, and now we’re here, giving a speech about women being able to do anything men can do, and I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong. Sometimes, women rise above and beyond, we heed the call where everyone else has been silent, and anyone can do that. Gender doesn’t matter, because what we do is about _passion_ and we don’t do it to be recognized as women. So, thank you for having us here, thank you for finally realizing that we’re valid and powerful, that our work is a legitimate science, but you should know that we didn’t do it because we wanted to prove women have a place in the field of scientific discovery. We did it because we’re _scientists_ , and anyone can be a scientist if they have the passion to do it. Let’s stop looking at gender and start looking at people. I’m humbled to stand up here with a group of magnificent people who share my passion, who share my love of the unknown and adventure, and helped me save the world.”

A few people applauded, randomly, and Erin smiled in their direction, then cleared her throat to deliver the finale.

“I’m humbled to be standing up here with two of my best friends,” she gestured to Abby and Patty, making eye contact with each of them, and for a second, Holtzmann’s brain slowed because she realized she had been _skipped_ and she didn’t know why, because while they hadn’t been trying to hide their relationship or anything, they certainly weren’t trying to bury it. She was Erin’s friend, just like the other two. Erin’s eyes met hers gently, as if she could smell the blonde’s worry, and then turned back to the microphone. “I’m also honored to be up here with my other half, the woman who keeps pushing me to be bolder and braver, to keep challenging myself and doing what I’ve always loved, even though it doesn’t hold a candle to how much I love her. Thank you.”

The audience applauded, Abby’s jaw dropped and she clapped an approving hand over Erin’s shoulder, Patty grinned proudly from ear-to-ear, and Holtzmann just stood there as if the earth had opened up and swallowed her feet, disabling her movement entirely.

Erin… loved her?

Loved her more than Ghostbusting, more than science?

The engineer stirred when slim fingers threaded through hers and a gentle eyebrow raise suggested that they leave the stage, together. Once they were away from the crowds, from the people, Holtzmann furrowed her brow, hard, and muttered nonsense, words that weren’t quite words, sentences that were fragmented, jumbled, and Erin pulled something out of her clutch. The yellow goggles dangled delicately from her fingers, and she held them out to Holtzmann gingerly, giving the blonde a reassuring nod.

“I don’t need them,” Holtz confirmed, but she appreciated the gesture all the same. She took the goggles, warmed by their familiar weight in her hand, and tucked them into her pocket before she looked at her girlfriend, jaw quivering a little as she held back tears. “You said you loved me to a couple hundred people, and that was before you said it to me.”

Erin bit the inside of her cheek, suddenly struck by worry. Had she done something wrong?

“I don’t know if this makes it better or worse, but I’ve known for a while and that last part… that wasn’t part of my speech. I know how you feel about all of this, and I know your fierce, feminist heart aches that we’ve had to fight for equal rights for so long. You love bravely, and I’ve watched you live fiercely for the short time I’ve known you, and it made me realize that I’ve lived a pretty normal, unremarkable life until I found you. I locked Ghost Girl away and exchanged it for what? A normal Erin Gilbert that everyone walked all over and never acknowledged? I wanted some of your bravery, Jill, so I took it.”

Her jaw set, hard, and Erin wondered if she should prepare for backlash, for an angry side of the engineer she knew existed, but had never seen. Intense blue eyes snapped up and met hers, stormy as the choppy waves of a churning ocean, and she swallowed hard, isolating the lines in her throat as her head leaned back and the blonde took a deep breath.

“You know, there are cameras everywhere, and they’re gonna be paying extra close attention to us after your little declaration,” Holtzmann said, and for a moment, Erin didn’t quite understand _why_.

“I don’t care, I love you and I’m not afraid to—“

Holtz pressed a finger against Erin’s lips and grinned her silly grin with her dimples on full display that made Erin’s heart throb with adoration.

“I’m really glad you said that.”

Unlike their kiss at the firehouse, this one was full of heat and blistering passion as Holtzmann pressed Erin against a wall and crushed their lips together. She could briefly hear the clicking of camera shutters, the quiet murmuring of partygoers, but when Erin acquiesced to the newfound, rough treatment of her body under the engineer’s hands and _moaned_ into Jillian’s mouth, she didn’t care if a thousand people were watching. Hell, she didn’t care if the entirety of the world saw this exchange because Erin Gilbert loved her, and goddamn it, Holtz loved her back. The melding of their mouths turned into a fight for dominance, of teeth and tongues staking claim over kiss-bruised lips and wandering hands moving over soft fabric and softer hips that were clothed. Fingernails clawed at material, and Erin’s hips arched up into Holtzmann, pressing wantonly against her, and it was then, when the blonde felt a heavy _ache_ between her thighs and registered the heat from Erin’s body that she knew they had to leave… immediately.

Holtz pulled back and ran a hand through her hair, even though it was shaking, and caught Abby’s eyes from across the crowded room. Erin blushed and smiled sheepishly, clinging to her girlfriend by the lapels of her blazer, and saw Holtzmann wave to Abby, registering at the last minute that it was an apologetic, early goodbye.

“Wanna get out of here?”

Erin nodded and swooned when Jillian wrapped a protective, confident arm around her waist and led her toward the exit before she ever said ‘yes.’

 

* * *

 

 

The door to Erin’s apartment closed with a heavy thud that was so loud, she almost worried they’d broken something. Her back was against the sturdy wood in seconds, the engineer following suit and pressing against her in blissful seconds that barely registered as the passing of time and yet were still too long to have the other woman away from her. The physicist’s head tilted back and Jillian’s mouth skimmed the column of her throat, peppering the sensitive flesh with ardent kisses that were purposeful, passionate, and then bruising when she added her teeth to the equation like a hidden variable. Sure, steady hands skimmed her sides, sinking in to her hips with more strength than Erin had originally anticipated, but she should have known better. She had no doubts that the blonde would be a passionate lover, as devoted to pleasing her partner as she was to figuring out her machines and inventions; Jillian liked to learn how things worked, what made them tick, and even more so, she enjoyed the process of taking things _apart_ and putting them back together, reinforcing them into better forms of their previous incarnation.

Erin wondered if she intended to do the same with her.

“Gotta say somethin’,” Jillian murmured against her skin, the words mumbled as she kissed along Erin’s jawline, and the physicist responded by tugging on the blonde’s hair at the roots, sharper than she’d ever imagined being, but fueled by the heat and passion that cut between them like a knife, splitting them at their atomic seams and building them into a cohesive whole, a singular being, one flesh and heart and _soul_ , and they weren’t even naked yet.

“Shh, no words,” Erin said, then grinned wickedly as Jillian nipped at her racing pulse again, canines flush against her skin with teasing sharpness. “Well… maybe not _no_ words.”

“Damn, Gilbert,” Holtzmann said, pulling back for a second and raising an eyebrow at her girlfriend, obviously impressed at the sultry tone her voice had taken, dropping into the basement of her register and clouding with smoke and grit, whiskey on the rocks and cigars, something wholly new and unexpected, nothing like the buttoned-up, prim professor she’d originally met. “No, but seriously.”

“ _Holtzmann_ ,” Erin whined, thrusting her hips toward her girlfriend with anguished need. She felt her pulse in her fingertips, in her thighs, in her ankles, even. It was unbearable, the ache that was stoked in her like a small spark that had now become a roaring, all-consuming flame as she ebbed and flowed against the engineer’s surprisingly sturdy physique.

“I love you, okay? I love you, too.”

Jillian bit her bottom lip, and Erin groaned into her mouth a second later, flipping their positions with all the strength she could muster and tearing at the buttons of the blonde’s blouse, scattering them to the four corners of the earth for all she cared, and shoving that blazer off slim shoulders. Holtzmann whined, whimpered, and sank against the door, relying on Erin’s questing hands to keep her from sinking as she reveled in her current, half-debauched state. Her blouse was loose against her alabaster skin, showcasing the navy-blue bra she wore underneath, fancier than what she usually wore, but she wanted to feel proper for a proper event. It was a tease of flesh, and Erin’s eyes raked down the rest of the garment’s slim opening, down toned abs and narrow hips that cut into a v-shape that challenged her eyes to follow down, down to the leather belt that secured her pants to her body. That was where her hands fell next, working on the buckle and tugging, a commanding flick of her wrist that sealed the deal as the leather whipped through the belt loops, and then she shoved the engineer’s shirt the rest of the way off and pressed her mouth _everywhere_ , along sharp collarbones and the soft swells of breasts that were obscured by soft fabric that was sexy, but practical, just like Holtzmann.

“You’re overdressed, Erin,” Jillian breathed against her lips when Erin’s mouth finally found hers again, and the physicist stepped back, fixing the panting, flushed engineer with a slow-burning smile.

“Once you get to the bedroom, I won’t be,” Erin said, because she knew in Jillian’s slightly disoriented state, she’d need a minute to collect herself, get her bearings, and find Erin’s bedroom. The engineer wasn’t _that_ familiar with her apartment, so she had the upper hand, and started by kicking her heels off, letting them clatter in a corner so she could scamper to her bedroom and get a head start. Holtzmann groaned, pounded her fists against the door as she felt anguished desire flood her system, sending her on overdrive. Her body tingled as she rocked up against the door, wobbling a bit on shaky knees as she kicked off her own shoes and followed in the direction the redhead had taken, down a hallway where there were two doors. The first, she discovered, was the bathroom – not the master, but a half-bathroom – and then the second one was… _oh_.

The room was dim, illuminated only by bits of sunlight that crept through closed curtains, but she could still see _everything_ as her eyes adjusted. Her bare feet found material crumpled a few steps inside the doorway, and she didn’t need to look down to see it was Erin’s dress when she caught sight of the physicist lounging, cat-like, on her bed in a black bra and panty set that had, you guessed it, more tiny bow ties that were actually _sexy_ and interwoven with lace. Erin crooked a finger at Holtzmann and bit her bottom lip as the engineer stalked toward her, swift and steady, her eyes never leaving Erin’s as she knelt on the bed and crawled up her girlfriend’s prone body, careful to touch as little skin as possible even when Erin arched into the hollow space between them, desperately seeking contact. The first touch was pragmatic, strong hands on Erin’s inner thighs to part them so Holtz could kneel between, and the blonde made a show of unbuttoning her pants, unzipping them, and shimmying them off her hips. It was a little more awkward, kicking them aside, but that didn’t matter because now they were both in their underwear, and electricity crackled between them like the interior of a plasma globe.

“How did I even get so lucky?”

Erin smiled and reached up to stroke the side of Jillian’s face, breaking the heat with a moment of tenderness.

“You have some pretty sweet dance moves. I was helpless to resist your charms,” Erin suggested, chuckling softly before she pulled the engineer’s lips to hers, gently at first, but heated after a split second when Jillian’s body finally fell to hers, nestling perfectly in the cradle of her hips and thighs, a puzzle piece sliding into place after hours or lifetimes of searching for completion. The blonde trailed her lips down Erin’s neck, down her collarbones, leaving a path of devastatingly tender affection in her wake. Each kiss was open-mouthed, a reverent breath against overheated skin, and Erin arched into every touch, her hands flying against the sheets, first, then into the engineer’s hair, then anywhere she could touch as she began to unravel.

“May I finish what you started?” Holtz’s eyes traced over her bra, first, then her underwear, asking permission before she proceeded, even though Erin could see the hunger and want in her eyes. Her pupils were blown, leaving only a tiny ring of the vibrant blue, and her breath fell in heavy pants from deep in her chest. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen, and the physicist realized that this Holtzmann, _her_ Jillian, was the most captivating thing she’d ever seen.

“Please, _please_ don’t stop. I’ve been waiting for you for so long,” Erin said, needy and wanton, because whenever Jillian touched her, it felt like she was erasing every other lover, replacing the ‘good enoughs’ with ‘forevers’ and promises of a bright, brilliant future that Erin Gilbert had always wanted, but never thought she was good enough to get. It felt like her soul had been waiting for this moment, like her heart was finally repaired from all the tiny cracks and damages, made strong again with faithful, perfect hands that knew just how to touch her even though they’d never gone this far.

“Me, too, gorgeous. Me, too.”

Like magic, Jillian unhooked Erin’s bra and kissed a path down her shoulders, following the straps like a game, and Erin flushed again, her body shivering from head to toe under the engineer’s ministrations. Next, agile fingers hooked into the waistband of her underwear and slid the scant garment down long, toned legs, and Jillian repeated her game from before with the same attention, nuzzling her thighs, kissing her calves, her ankles, and crawling back up to lay between her legs when she returned. Erin’s hands rested on Jillian’s back and unhooked the blonde’s bra, determined to even them up, and the engineer shot her a wink when she removed the last piece of her own clothing, then sighed when they sank together, skin-to-skin.

It was Heaven.

She could officially die a happy woman.

“Don’t get carried away just yet, Gilbert. I haven’t even _started_ ,” Jillian swore, her voice a husky curse that shot through Erin like fire.

“I’ve spent so many nights thinking about you and how you’ll take me apart,” Erin confessed, murmuring into Jillian’s shoulder, finding that she was bolder, more empowered with the engineer than she’d ever been with another lover. She was never particularly shy in the bedroom, not typically, but she also wasn’t _brave_ and therein lay the difference. She had needs, desires, things she hungered for, and maybe her partners before would try them on a whim, but never because she made the suggestion, never because she opened up enough to let them see all her edges and corners. With Jillian, she felt the need to show the blonde all her cards, tell her everything, but she was determined to let her explore a bit first.

“All your thoughts about me are wrong,” Jillian said, a curious look crossing her features that was confusing, just for the gap between heartbeats, and then sprang into perfect clarity when she grinned, Cheshire, and slid down Erin’s body, peppering more of those sweet kisses until she reached the apex of the redhead’s body where she was _dripping_ with need. “I’m not just gonna take you apart, Erin. I’m gonna _tear_ you apart. I’m gonna ruin you.” It was more possessive than she anticipated, but the blonde’s touch was tender, and Erin knew she’d been hungry for this – for her – for a long time. Possibly for longer than Erin had wanted her back. She wondered about how long Jillian had lusted after a fantasy version of her, how long that brilliant mind had detailed all the things they might do, all the things she wanted, and all the things she wanted to do, and now that she had the opportunity to act, to pounce, to _take,_ Erin couldn’t blame her for being possessive. In fact, she thought it was the hottest fucking thing she’d ever heard a lover say to her.

 

* * *

 

 

“Jill, that’s, you’re---“

“Mm-hmm,” Jillian moaned, lapping desperately at Erin’s center, alternating between slow strokes with a flat tongue and flickers with the tip against the physicist’s aching bundle of nerves. She teased it, toyed with it, sucked her clit between those full lips that Erin wanted to die kissing, and drove the redhead to the point of madness.

And then she let go.

Erin growled, grunting as she rocked her hips forward, desperate for more of the glorious contact of Jillian’s perfect mouth and that incredibly talented tongue that kept isolating bundles of nerves that she didn’t even know existed, and she’d spent many, many nights bringing herself to climax since they’d started dating, because her sexual frustration had reached an all-time high and her libido spiked ruthlessly around the precocious engineer.

“Why are you _teasing_ me?”

“Why do you want this to be over so quickly? I want this to last forever.”

 

* * *

 

 

Erin had never anticipated that two fingers, two slim fingers, could make her feel so _full_ , but when Jillian finally slid into her, she ached and clenched and groaned and it was all _too good_ and too much of a good thing, and yet not enough. So painfully aroused, she’d felt empty, arching against the blonde’s tongue for what could have been hours, and the void inside her was desperate to be filled, and then when her wish was granted, she already wanted to sob at the thought that she’d ever be without Jillian’s fingers inside her for a single moment again.

“Fuck, Jill, _harder_ ,” Erin begged, knowing that a little bit of a rougher touch made her burn in all the right ways.

“In a minute. Looking for something,” she said, her voice surprisingly calm as she thrust slowly, dragging her fingers along different parts of Erin’s internal walls, dragging out every modicum of sensation as she played Erin’s nerves like a fiddle.

“I’m tricky, it’s fine, just…”

“Is that what other people have told you? Bullshit,” Jill said, her chest puffing out as she huffed and kissed Erin’s forehead. “Hold on.”

The fire in her lover’s eyes should have been a warning.

Jillian Holtzmann _loved_ a challenge.

“Baby, this is _perfect_ , just a little harder and I’m gonna _, oh holy shit.”_

“Bingo,” Jillian whispered against Erin’s throat.

 

* * *

 

 

Erin thrashed around like she’d been possessed. She dripped onto the sheets, down Jillian’s fingers, down her forearm, _everywhere_ as the blonde continued unraveling her, bringing her to a climax that was so close, so powerful that she was terrified. Even so, she was lost to the white-hot pleasure in her loins, in the very center of her chest, strong enough to make her toes tingle and her legs go numb, temporarily, and then she imploded like a star, turning the world and the space around them into a black hole, a vortex where everything was still and silent.

Until she started screaming the engineer’s name so loud, she probably woke the dead.

 

* * *

 

 

“Don’t look at me, I’m so embarrassed.”

Jillian chuckled and kissed the swell of Erin’s breast as she traveled up the older woman’s body.

“C’mon, _baby_ , you think something like a physiological reaction to pleasurable stimuli would gross me out? Quite the contrary, hot stuff,” the engineer swore as she locked eyes with Erin and slowly, ever-so-slowly, licked her fingers clean of every drop, responding with a sinful moan that woke a beast in Erin.

“Fine. Your turn. I’m _starving_.”

Jillian yelped when Erin nipped her hip bone and flipped them over, pinning the engineer’s wrists with the same force she’d used against the door.

“Bring it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm an avid smut reader, so I don't know if mine measures up at all to some of the greats on this site (you know who you are, because I comment on your stuff shamelessly and need an endless supply of cold showers), but I think communication and 'talk' during sex is key, and I like when smut feels... realistic, I guess? Besides, these two snarky ladies are just so much fun - the banter! Anyway, drop me a line if you're still loving this. I appreciate all your kind words and feedback more than you know.


	5. Such a Sweet Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession: I am a sucker for 'lame', minor holidays. I said this was going to be a holiday piece and I meant it, but I am going to probably avoid a lot of the major ones - but there are some I'll include, just 'cause. I feel like Holtzbert would dig the lesser known ones, anyway, and make them special for their own reasons. That's kind of what I've always done. Anyway, there's a little bit of smut in this - not as much as the last chapter, but maybe check to see if someone's reading over your shoulder first? Or be prepared for some mild discomfort if you're at work/school? I hope you enjoy. Also, happy 3.14 everyone! Thank you for the kind comments/feedback - it really makes my day.

Erin had gotten so used to having the engineer in her bed that waking up without her was… sad, odd, and a little lonely, if she was being completely honest. The physicist rolled over, cradling the pillows that her girlfriend had slept on – when she wasn’t using Erin’s body as a pillow, that was – and smelled the curious mix of lemon, electric burns, and something with an underlying sweetness that was just Jillian. In no universe should those scents have worked together, but in this one, they somehow did. The redhead breathed in the scent from the soft cotton of her pillowcases and groaned, trying to stretch out her limbs that had been exhausted in a few new positions the night before, because they were starting to get very, _very_ creative with their sex life. The sheets were cool and soft against her bare skin, and the temperature of them told Erin that Jillian had been gone for a while, and since they were in Erin’s apartment, the physicist was struggling to wonder where the engineer might run off to at – she looked at her alarm clock – eight in the morning.

After she was done trying to absorb Holtzmann’s lingering scent to make up for the woman’s absence, and for such a small person, she sure did take up a _lot_ of space, she rolled onto her back, not even bothering to shield her nudity by pulling up blankets because as far as she knew, she was alone in the apartment and had nothing to fear. Besides, if Holtz was still wandering around, she’d appreciate the show. Erin’s senses were assaulted once the rest of her drifted away from sleep and toward a brisk clarity that came with consciousness, and she smelled… baked goods?

It was unmistakable, the scent of flaky crust and sugary sweetness, and it was coming from her kitchen, so the redhead raised a brow and decided to get out of bed to investigate, because even though she was used to dealing with curiosities and the paranormal on a daily basis, but this was beyond her realm of comprehension, especially since she didn’t bake. As far as Erin was aware, her oven didn’t even work, that was how frequently she used it. One time, she’d tried to warm a pizza up, and her oven had popped and creaked at her, dangerously, so she’d given up.

Erin grabbed her robe that was hanging on the back of her bedroom door and pulled the blue silk over her shoulders, tying it loosely enough to be comfortable, but enough to keep her covered as she padded down the hallway toward her kitchen. As she got closer, she felt a little silly because if there was an intruder in her home, it seemed a little ridiculous that he or she would only come in to use her likely defective stove to _bake_. As she turned the corner at the end of the hallway and headed into her living room, which was just an off-shoot from the open concept kitchen that had been a main selling point for the apartment, she busted out into laughter at the sight before her. Holtzmann was gliding around her kitchen, tending to a number of different bowls and pans and utensils that Erin wasn’t even sure belonged to her because she didn’t have that many kitchen gadgets, even the basic ones like spatulas. The blonde had flour all over the front of her t-shirt and across her cheeks and ended up waving to Erin with a rolling pin when she noticed the redhead standing there, unable to say words yet as she clearly was trying to make sense of what she was looking at.

“G’morning, sleepyhead. Rested well, I trust?”

“I wanted to wake up next to you, but apparently you had other plans…”

Erin wasn’t cross – she was a little disappointed, because she’d sort of fallen in love with the feeling of a warm, sleepy Holtzmann in her arms when they woke up – but she and Holtz always tried to be honest with each other, as neither of them liked platitudes and hidden sentiments.

“I made you coffee, does that make up for my absence?”

Before Erin could answer, the blonde was up in her personal space, pressing a warm mug of coffee – prepared exactly as she liked it – into her hands. Holtz leaned in and kissed her girlfriend on the cheek, sighing with happiness before she bounced back over to her projects that were strewn all over Erin’s kitchen counter, alongside her toolbox from the Firehouse, which was left open as if it had been recently used.

“What are you doing up this early?”

“Erin Gilbert, do you not know what _day_ it is?”

The expression on the engineer’s face was shocked, a little amused, and patiently waiting for a response as she leaned against the counter, her hands smearing more flour atop the granite top – she left it everywhere, and had even gotten some on Erin’s robe, but the redhead didn’t care. She had been happy for the affection.

As quickly as she could manage, Erin shuffled through potential dates in her head – anniversaries, birthdays, historical events, scientific events – and came up short.

“It’s Tuesday,” she decided, squinting a little, because she knew she was missing out on something.

“Do you know the calendar date, sweetheart?”

“It’s the… 14th?”

Sometimes, she and Jillian got so wrapped up in each other that they lost track of time. Work had been slow, and while none of them had a light workload, even if there weren’t ghosts to bust, she and Holtz had been taking a little more time for each other since the gala on International Women’s Day – Abby and Patty were happy to give them the time to indulge in the bright, shiny honeymoon-phase of their relationship because they were finally getting physical and the other two women wanted that sort of behavior far, far away from where their communal living spaces, not because they weren’t happy for their friends, but because ‘their eyes, their precious eyes’ or something like that.

“The 14th of March,” Jillian purred, humming a little as she made her way back to the kitchen, stirring something in a bowl and kicking a foot behind her to slowly lower the oven door to check on whatever scrumptiousness was baking inside. “3… 14…”

“Uh-huh,” Erin said, sipping her coffee, still not quite understanding what had gotten into her girlfriend because the blonde was beautifully quirky, and the physicist _adored_ that about her, but she couldn’t pretend to understand every genius thought that passed through the engineer’s brain and only hoped for enlightenment once she raised the white flag of surrender. Jill was really good about bringing her up to speed, and Erin was quick to catch on, as she was also a brilliant scientist, so there was never really any prolonged periods where they weren’t speaking the same language. It was nice, finding someone who could keep up with her on an intellectual level, and not just emotionally and physically. Holtzmann was the whole package, and Erin knew she was very, very lucky.

“What kind of nerd are you, Gilbert? I’m gonna revoke your card,” Holtz pouted, crossing her arms and closing the oven the appropriate way before she slumped back against the counter.

“Why would you revoke my…?”

“It’s _Pi Day_ , aka one of the best holidays ever because it’s mathematical, Einstein’s _birthday_ , and you get pie,” Holtzmann rambled, her arms flailing around as she gave the quick explanation to Erin, who could only laugh n response.

“Baby, that’s a ridiculous holiday,” she said, because it hadn’t ever really registered in her mind as a legitimate thing. She knew people made a fuss about it, but people also made a fuss about May the 4th because of _‘Star Wars’_ , and that was a _stretch_ in her mind. “Nobody really gets excited about Pi Day.”

“Au contraire,” Holtz said, and moved toward her girlfriend with a mischievous glint in those blue eyes. “I get _jazzed_ about Pi Day, and you get to reap the benefits. I already have… four kinds of pie in the works. More pending.”

“Four kinds of pie? Jill, how are we---do you expect us to eat all this pie?”

“Well, I figured we could take some of the leftovers to the firehouse, but most of it, yeah.”

“So this is what you’ve been doing all morning?”

“Getting ingredients, fixing your oven, making pie… yup,” Holtz said proudly, planting another, sloppier kiss on Erin’s cheek. “Because I thought I would spoil my girlfriend and give her a reason to want to work off _all these empty calories_ later. Also, it’s pie, Gilbert. Nobody is _ever_ upset about pie.”

“You fixed my oven?”

It was a sweeter gesture than Erin had anticipated, when she’d first considered that Holtzmann had done just that for her own, ridiculous shenanigans. She didn’t even use her oven.

“Yeah. Necessity is the mother of invention. Or, in this case, it’s the mother of repairs.”

“What kind of pie did you make?”

The engineer was so wonderful, so beyond good to her, so Erin knew it was time for her to start getting genuinely jazzed about Pi Day.

Holtzmann’s full, dimpled smile made the redhead weak in the knees, and before she knew it, she was being dragged over to the counter like a parent being taken to see her kid’s project at Science Fair.

“So far, we have… _drumroll please_ … key lime, apple, coconut cream, and… you guessed it,” Holtz said, waggling her eyebrows lewdly at Erin before she continued, “cherry.”

“They look delicious. I didn’t know you could bake,” Erin said, a little more than impressed as she looked at the blonde with a new regard, a new appreciation, because she just had so many hidden talents.

“Baking is a science, my love, and who am I if not a scientist?”

Erin wrapped her arms around the blonde’s slim waist and kissed her, knowing she tasted of coffee and had the remnants of morning breath, but Jillian never cared. Kissing her, the engineer had said more than a few times, was always worth it.

“What’s your favorite flavor?”

The redhead knew her voice had dropped, just a little, to a huskier, more suggestive tone, but it wasn’t intentional. She was just trying to gain insight, play along, make Jillian feel like this celebration was going to be well-received because the last thing she wanted was to crush the blonde’s boundless spirit.

“Mine? It’s a little obscure,” the blonde started, making sure her eyes were locked with Erin’s before she continued. “Particle physicist.”

Erin swatted her on the arm, but she couldn’t even pretend to be serious because she was so overcome with laughter at Jillian’s antics.

“That is _so_ cheesy and lewd, even for you, Holtzmann!”

“Did it win any points in my favor?”

The redhead bit her bottom lip and set her coffee mug aside, on the counter behind where they were standing.

“You _know_ it did,” she purred, and seconds later, they were kissing again. Jillian’s hands roamed over the soft material of Erin’s robes and the physicist’s hips rocked forward, drawn to the smaller woman, eager for her touch and the feel of their bodies pressed together. Holtzmann moaned into Erin’s mouth when the kiss deepened and groaned when Erin’s hands tangled in her hair, tugging gently at the fine hairs at the base of her neck and skimming down the nape to her shoulders, where her forearms hung loosely as they kept making out in her kitchen.

“Does this mean you’ll, _ahem,_ share your pie with me?”

“ _Holtzmann_ ,” Erin gasped, swatting the precocious blonde again as the engineer erupted in laughter before peppering her neck with kisses that turned into harsher, rougher love bites that made the redhead tingle in the most pleasant ways. They probably didn’t have much time, as she knew baking was an intricate science and expected Holtz took as much pride in the details of making pie as she did every other project that was attached to her name, but she _wanted_ , and badly.

“Is that a yes?” Holtz’s hands were on the tie of her robe and loosened the knot in seconds, exposing a strip of naked flesh between the sides of fabric. The engineer gasped, her eyes hungrily roaming Erin’s newly uncovered body, and the physicist blushed because every time Holtz looked at her, it was with the same awe and reverence that she’d seen on the younger woman’s face the very first time.

“ _Yes_ , please—“

Holtzmann pushed Erin back against the kitchen counter, nudging her hips at an angle that would be perfect since the countertop was too full of perishables to hoist her onto it like the blonde originally wanted, and Erin groaned loudly when Holtz dropped to her knees. The robe fluttered to the ground and Jillian eased one of Erin’s legs over her shoulder as she explored slowly, at first, with her tongue against Erin’s center, hot and insistent, but determined to take her time. The redhead could hear the blonde’s initial moan when her tongue traced a long stripe between her folds, drawing her wetness into her mouth greedily, hungrily, and then focused on her clit, building her up slowly with calculated licks and small, tight circles.

Erin could feel a bubble of pressure building in her lower abdomen, a rush of heat that made her flush from head to toe, and her hands gripped at the countertop, knowing it was the most stable thing within reach. The unforgiving surface made her fingers ache from how hard she was gripping it, but her only other option was Jill’s head, and she didn’t want to hurt her lover while she was bestowing such sweet pleasure on all of the physicist’s rapidly firing nerves. She was so sensitive when Jill built her up like this, almost as if she was being constructed from the ground up, and it bordered on too much stimulation sometimes, but when she fell – when her climax hit, it was explosive every time. It was the kind of orgasm that stole the breath from her lungs and left her boneless for long, arduous minutes after while her lover waited, patiently, for her to recover, a grin of smug pride fixed to her gorgeous features as she let Erin fall back down to earth.

The rush that washed over her held the same promise, and Jillian always, _always_ delivered. One of Erin’s hands moved away from the counter and tangled in the blonde’s hair, pushing Holtz’s face closer to her sex, urging that sinfully wicked tongue deeper, and then the oven timer sounded – _loudly_ – and snapped her out of her reverie.

“Jill, please, _please_ ,” Erin groaned, hoping that Holtz could just finish her really quick, and then…

Her girlfriend pulled away and wiped the corner of her mouth before kissing the inside of Erin’s thigh, just a gentle whisper of apologetic contact.

“Please what, burn the pie? Erin, that’s ludicrous.”

“Baby, I’m _so_ _close_ ,” Erin begged, and she wasn’t the type to, she hadn’t been a beggar before Jillian altered her chemistry to want and _ache_ and need so much.

“I know, darling, but lemon meringue waits for no one,” Holtzmann retorted before standing up and helping Erin recover on her wobbly knees. The physicist was beyond frustrated, but the blonde shot her a devious wink before she whipped a beautiful, almost magazine photo-op worthy lemon meringue pie out of the oven with a proud grin and set it on a cooling rack next to the other pies. “Ain’t she a beaut?”

Erin started to put her robe back on, suddenly feeling as if she should since the blonde was likely about to get wrapped back in to her projects, but as soon as she moved, the mere insinuation of getting dressed, she was stopped by a no-nonsense tone in the engineer’s voice. The blonde didn’t even look up, didn’t look at her, and Erin stopped cold.

“Don’t even think about it, Gilbert. We’re taking one of these babies and a can of Reddi-Whip to bed to get this day started right,” Holtzmann replied, gesturing over the pies as if she wanted Erin to choose.

“But we’ll make a mess,” Erin protested weakly.

“Don’t we always?”

The lascivious grin that crossed Holtz’s face was enough to shatter her resolve and any arguments she might have had.

“Key lime. And bring _two_ cans,” Erin said, then threw her robe at Jillian and made her way back into the bedroom, a sway in her hips present that hadn’t been there before, just to amplify the blonde’s need.

Her plan was _very_ effective, and Pi Day became a yearly tradition, set in stone.


End file.
